Itch

by Cody Gradin

Mind me, it started as a mere bump that protruded on my skin. I thought nothing of it, in the beginning, but it progressed rapidly as each day passed.

Day 1

The bump was an amber yellow and was more or less noticeable on my forearm. It was easily broke open by a scratch or a little rub of fabric; then to release a liquid that could be compared to honey. For this little bump, I gave no note.

Day 2

The bump was now less bumpy and more boil-like. Its size increased significantly now measuring to that of an inch across all ways. I decided that it was meaningless, proceeding on with my day.

At my office is when the real troubles began. I gave it a little itch for it was begging me to and wanting more and more. The itch coming from the boil got intense enough for me to excuse myself to the bathroom to rinse it with cool water. It relaxed me, but you couldn't put aside the fact that now it was bleeding a steady stream of blood. The protuberance received several feet of toilet paper acting as gauze. I continued my day.

Day 3

Unrolling the toilet paper, I found that it gotten much worse. It spread two more inches looking like soaked scabs. Another bump appeared on my leg.

I decided that if things got any worse, to the doctor I would go.

I sat next to a relatively large man on the subway about four days ago. He gave no note to anyone in the train except to his own body which he continuously itched. It was disturbing to watch for when he scratched his scalp at a rate which seemed one-hundred miles an hour, thousands of crispy flakes shattered from his head. Could he have gave me this condition?

Today was no different than the others, and I knew what to expect in the morning. I would take the day off to see a doctor.

Day 4

I didn't even make it out of my own bed before I cut beneath the surface of my skin with my nails. It was beginning to become an annoying attachment to my body.

At the doctor I expected a spontaneous cure that would bring an end to my misery. The doctor only gave me a simple cream even though I advocated for something else.

That night I put on my cream with high hopes.

Day 5

To my extreme disappointment nothing had changed in the morning. The cream was like putting water over a tarp for it to slide right off! But optimistically, I thought I should give it another few days. So I put on my cream and headed for work.

At the office my itch started again. People were beginning to notice me, spreading rumors that I had fleas. FLEAS! Tension built up in my body as scratched my boils hoping that if I scratched hard enough that would solve the problem. The DAMNED things!

Day 7

The cream I now denounced useless, so skipping another day to go to the doctor.

All he suggested was increasing the active ingredients! The useless WASTE of a doctor! I told him the cream wouldn't work, but he would listen. Who does he think he is? I should've reported him...

AHHH! It wouldn't stop. The itch was too deep for my grimy nails to reach. The itch seemed to be coming from the bone. It was unbearable.

Day 10

I sat there in my bed naked, looking at my body. This "itch" now covered both my arms and legs in endless hills of scaly flesh. I didn't wear T-shirts or shorts to work anymore. I poured the remaining cream the doctor gave me in a pool that was my tub. I sat in there for an hour; it was a long awaited relief.

When I managed to get myself dressed, I made my way to the ER. It was no longer under my control to sustain from itching. This was my last resort. They looked me up and down left and right as I told them my story. They said and I quote, it's like nothing I've seen before. They took some samples from me (I barely refrained from savagely marring my body for worse) to the lab and left me in the bleak hospital patient room. I fell asleep listening to the buzz of the fluorescent lights above me.

I awoke back in my small apartment decor with terrifying thoughts. What was I doing here? How did I get back here? I looked down and saw that I was naked. The itch now covered my ENITRE body, making me look hideously disfigured. My armed itched, then my legs. Torso. Back. Head. Itch. Itch. Itch.

Day 11

Tremendously, I awoke the next morning back in the hospital to the point of weeping. I sighed heavily in relief contemplating my dream. Other than the nightmare, I had my first good night's rest in days. I replenished my thirst with the cup of water beside me. I was excited to hear the doctor's results and get back to civilization.

The doctor came into my room, within an hour after I woke up, with a smile on his face. Don't worry, he said. He kept on say that I would be fine, that all I had was a simple rash that was completely treatable.

He bandaged me up, helped me get dressed, and sent me home with a tube of cream.

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